


An Afternoon Off

by noseforahtwo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Mild Kink, affectionate asphyxiation, noodle compression, pajama domme, soft dom, sweet choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:37:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noseforahtwo/pseuds/noseforahtwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Commander visits Antiva's best brothel, The Bell Somni, with a good idea of what he wants. Sometimes a professional is a better judge of what's needed. (The idea of Cullen & a soft Pajama Domme is too good to let go of.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Afternoon Off

**Author's Note:**

> The Bell Somni brothel in Antiva is the work of @zorazen who very nicely let me borrow it for Cullen’s little trip to the naughty side of town. Madeleine is in Ishalle’s old quarters, now that he has gone to find his future away from Antiva. The Bell Somni appears in her excellent story Waking from the Dream. http://archiveofourown.org/works/6033211/chapters/1383456

“Um. Are we, is there something I need to do first? Is there a…form to sign?”

He still hasn’t touched his tea. She made it sweet but not too sweet, no milk. Fereldans tend to look askance at dairy being used for anything but cheese, cheese, cheese. _Which is an assumption. One I shouldn’t make, I should be listening and watching  but after so long in this trade a person takes shortcuts._

Madeleine smooths her skirt with a smile. “The associate at the front desk saw to it that you finished the paperwork. We’re very thorough at the Bell Somni. There’s nothing for you to worry about. You’ve done everything just right.”

_Oh, his face has gone red again. Lily was right. Lily is always right. Affection and assurances for this young man._

“So you’ve seen the questions?” Finally he lifts his tea for a sip, eyes darting all over the room. Looking for something - something he doesn’t see in the plush paisley bedding, the overlapping carpets and the brazier ticking as its wrought copper frame expands around the coals Madeleine refreshed just before a page directed ‘Bob’ to her door. 

“That is, I thought I indicated I was interested in-” Bob’s hand shakes as he puts his cup back on the little table she uses for her meals. “Oh! I’ve spilled, I’m sorry!”

Madeleine sops up the mess with a napkin, which Bob tried to take from her to do himself. She puts it aside and holds his hand still against the cream colored tablecloth. “It’s all right, honey." 

"I’m sorry,” he says again, looking at their hands. “I think there’s been a mistake, Miss.”

That he is a soldier is as obvious as his false name. His hand is rough with old scrapes still healing on his knuckles. Bob smells of sword oil and the kind of cheap lye soap quartermasters buy in crates. Madeleine has never minded it, the smell reminds her of some of her favorite clients. Antiva is full of soldiers lately, all going to or coming from that mess down south.

“Scoot back from the table a little,” she suggests. He does, so she slides from her chair and into his lap, nudging his legs together first. Bob’s arms go around her waist though his hands stay politely at the small of her back. Madeleine smiles at him. She would have anyway, but it's nice to have a reason to be genuine. For all his bashful stuttering, he is a man in his prime and she's glad to have an easy client early in the day. 

“You haven’t made a mistake, honey.” She gets comfortable, one arm around his broad shoulders, which presses her already plentiful bosom up further in her dress. He looks down, as he was meant to, and while he’s busy staring open-mouthed into her cleavage she runs a hand through his blond curls. “Everything is just right.”

“But, I told her, the- the Madam. Your _employer_ , I beg your pardon.” Bob takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, frowning. “I told her I wanted something else.”

“I’ve read your questionnaire,” Madeleine pets his cheek, over a week’s worth of stubble. _He should either grow it or go clean faced._ “I know what you need.”

“But I don’t see…where is your…Isn’t there some sort of equipment?”

Madeleine kisses his temple, very lightly. “My equipment is right in front of you.” She frames his face in her hands, tracing a long scar through his upper lip with her thumb. 

“I thought there would be, um…” He breaks off long enough to accept a kiss. Madeleine teases him a little, touching his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, nibbling until he responds. His hands clench on her hips, wrinkling the pale blue satin, certainly. 

_Ah well, the laundress is used to it._

“What did you think?” Madeleine kisses the scar, then the line between his eyebrows. 

“Aren’t you supposed to make me do something? I don’t know,” he sighs, frustrated. One hand leaves her dress to rub at the back of his neck. He looks at anything but her. “Am I supposed to crawl around on the floor in a collar?” The two spots of red come back, spreading to his ears. 

“Do you particularly want to, honey?”

“Err, no." 

"You have very nice eyes, did you know?” She smiles at him, watching him try to find the right words. Oh, she knows exactly what he thought when he came in, when Lily pushed the quill and parchment across her desk. He wants to be dominated. Bob wants to be someone’s slave. Bob isn’t averse to choking. His hard limits were: anal penetration, branding and edgeplay. The ink splotch beside that last item told her he was afraid to indicate his interest in blood. Bob had hesitated over that question. 

Bob had almost certainly thought he would be strapped to a cold damp wall in the cellar, pants around his ankles while a lean vicious woman caned his ass striped. Madeleine’s soft voice and softer body have thrown him off kilter. He isn't the first to think a woman needs to look hard to control a man. 

Bob’s other 'No’ was a non-human woman. Which, fine, there was no accounting for foolish prejudices. This is business.

“So have you,” he says. “Pretty eyes I mean. Just pretty, honestly. All of you. Am I allowed to touch your hair? I’ve always liked red hair,” he finishes with a sheepish grin that is actually quite endearing. 

“Yes, you may.” She leans back a little and begins to unlace her bodice. His hand at the back of her head gives her gooseflesh and she flinches, shrugging out of reflex. 

“Sorry!” Bob freezes, a hopeful glint in his eye. 

“Honey, do you think if you do something wrong I’ll hurt you?”

Bob has no answer and he starts looking around for floggers and paddles again. 

“I know what you need. If I think you _need_ correction, honey, I’ll correct you.” Madeleine pulls his hand carefully from her curls and kisses his palm. He’s clean, after all. “Put your hands together, on top of your head, please. Thank you, honey.”

Over the next quarter hour, she directs him through a lot of little tasks. First he only has to watch her undress, then sit up straight while she wraps herself in a plush robe. She gives him his hands back to unlace her shoes and take the pins from her hair. Obedience earns him kisses, slow and wet. It isn’t something she would use for every client, certainly, but this Fereldan is sweet smelling and so eager to please she could scratch him behind the ears like a puppy. Madeleine has him take off everything but his trousers, then write down his name on a piece of paper, which she folds up and destroys in the brazier’s fire.

_Cullen. That sounds more like it._

“Very nice, honey. You’ve done very well,” she directs him back to the small wooden chair, hands on his head again. “Lace your fingers together, good.” He moans, low and shy when she pets his chest and circles his nipples, flat and very small. She takes her time, paying attention to what makes him shiver. _Why rush the pretty ones?_ “Quiet please. If you have a question, I need you to ask me now because you won’t be able to talk again for a little while.”

He licks his lips, the scar pulling tight. “Why did you want my real name?”

“You don’t look like a Bob, honey. If you hear your name it’s because I need you here with me. Ah, no, that’s just what I mean. Keep your eyes open. I won’t make you look me in the eye. Not yet.” Madeleine strokes his cheek and he looks at her simple gold necklace. “You stay here, right here with me, honey. I’ve got you. Any other questions?”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“Why would I hurt you?” She asks it lightly as her fingers trace his collarbones. Sometimes men say very interesting things in return for simple questions.

“Because-” He glances up at her mouth, at her hair falling over one shoulder, still not able to make eye contact. “I said that’s what I want.”

“You’ve been very good, you’ve done everything just right. When I tell you what to do and how, will you obey?”

“Yes,” he says, instantly.  

She runs her fingers over a scar on his shoulder, and three more along his ribs. They’re old but he has so many more that look fresh. “I think you’ve been hurt enough for a little while. Trust me. I know what you need.”

He nods, flexing his hands a moment before putting them back on top of his head. 

“Thank you, honey.” She leans down to kiss him again and this time he responds without hesitation, stretching up to keep in contact when she breaks it. “No more noises, now. Eyes open." 

He jumps, looking at her hand stroking slow and firm up his thigh. She teases him a little while, running her nails over the bulge of his erection under his trousers. The beginnings of a grunt escape his throat when she squeezes hard, but he swallows it back down. She smiles and nods. He relaxes under her approval.

"You may have your hands again, and open your trousers.”

He looks down, going red and fumbling but his cock is finally out, flushed and twitching a little with his pulse. He sighs in relief, then looks up guiltily. 

“No more noise, honey.” She keeps a hand on his shoulder and circles around behind him to fetch a bottle of oil from the bureau. She drips it onto his cock and more into his open palm. “Go on, show me how you like to be touched.”

He blushes down to his belly, but he does it. His teeth make reddened dents in his bottom lip and his hands pick up speed constantly, only to slow down again when she softly reminds him that’s how _she_ wants it done. His head falls back and she tips it up again. He smells heavenly now, warm and masculine. His cock is lovely, very nicely shaped, and when he remembers to stroke slowly his foreskin slides over the reddened crown. Some clients need prodding to speak, to _say_ what they want. Not this one. He needs to do nothing but follow direction. Soldiers are very good under orders. Even choosing his own words would break the haze of pleasure Madeleine has helped him create. 

“Stop please. Hands on your head.”

She straddles his lap again, his cock shining with oil between her bare thighs. The satin belt of her robe trails against the head and he twitches, breathing hard and fast through his nose but still silent. Madeleine kisses him again, just for fun, running her hands over his biceps. They’re hard with tension. "Normally I have my pets keep their hands behind their back, but this posture is better for you, honey. Very nice." 

Twice more she puts him through his paces, letting his knuckles brush against the curls between her legs. She parts her robe for him, he stares hungrily at her heavy breasts when she stops him for the last time. 

“You’re doing so well, I think you’ve earned your voice back." 

His agonized groan sends a thrill through her. He’s close, one hand holding himself tight at the base and the other stroking fast. He begs, pleads for her to tell him he can come. Permission given, he curls in on himself, his head falling to her shoulder. His hot breath tickles. She gently nudges him to sit up straight then cleans his chest and stomach with the damp napkin. He follows her direction, slowly stretching out on her bed and wiggling out of the last of his clothes. 

"You are _well_  put together, honey,” she smiles and props herself on pillows alongside him. “I appreciate all the work you put into these muscles." 

Still too wobbly with the aftermath to blush, he nods and accepts the kiss she gives him along with her permission to touch her. In no time he is half hard again, squeezing her ass and mumbling into her breasts. 

"What was that?”

“I didn’t expect you to be so soft,” he says, looking around her room in wonder. “I thought I’d be somewhere else. It’s all so soft and…pink.”

“I like pink,” she laughs, putting his hand back between her legs. “As you were, honey. Gently.”

She plays up her orgasm a bit, but he’s earned it. He watches her, obviously fascinated with giving pleasure. _So coy._   _How many times has he even had a woman with the candles lit?_

“On your back, please.”

Madeleine rides him, his relieved moan as she takes him in is flattering. Rough hands slide up and down her thighs in counterpoint to her rhythm. Watching closely, she can see the moment he realizes her hand on his throat isn’t simply petting. Without breaking stride, she puts pressure on his pulses under her thumb and forefinger but leaves his windpipe alone. His brown eyes go wide and he gasps encouragement.

“Shush, honey.” She increases the pressure, cutting off his air now. Inside her he is instantly harder. The ridge at the head of his cock stands out noticeably as she rises off him slowly, pressing down on his throat and letting him almost slip free. She slides back down, taking him inside and giving him breath freely at the same time.

His eyelids flutter. She grinds down into him, circling her hips until she’s sure he is present again. 

“Please!” He coughs. One hand grabs hold of her wrist, trying to get her to choke him again. “Please, yes - don’t stop.”

“Hands!,” she snaps, rising up on her knees so that his cock falls onto his belly with a wet slap. “Hands on your head,” she says, quieter but no less firm.

“I’m sorry, sorry,” he insists, obeying in a heartbeat. “Please, please don’t stop.” His eyes are bright with tears that don’t quite spill over. 

It could just be the choking but she has her doubts. Plenty of clients need a good cry but don’t know how to get one without being forced to pay for it along with the sex. She reaches back and stands his cock up again, settling herself on him slowly. He’s holding his breath. “Breathe, honey, breathe,” she coos. “Breathe for me, very good.”

He behaves well after that. She gradually increases the restriction, her free hand pressing hard on his sternum as well. All her weight there is hardly enough to impair him alone but combined with her hand at his throat he is blissful. He begs her for more at each pause. _They always want more_. She picks up the pace, riding him faster but she doesn’t give in. Counting carefully, she holds on until his face is red, until she can feel the very first signs of his body going slack, then lets up. Each time he coughs or gasps, tears running down his temples into his sweat-soaked hair. 

“I’ll take you a little farther, honey,” she pants, sweat trickling down her own neck. “But you look at me, look me in the eye.”

He stares up at her, both hands limp on the pillow above his head. 

“Cullen.”

“Yes ma'am!” He blinks hard and laces his fingers together tightly. “I’m here, ma'am,” he says hoarsely, the vibrations against her palm tickling.

“Very good, honey,” she tosses her hair back and it sticks to her. “Look me in the eye.”

“Please, more,” he pleads, hips snapping up to meet her. His timing is off and he nearly unseats her. “I need you to-”

“Shh, you be still. Be still and I’ll take care of you, Cullen. Stay with me.”

Madeleine feels dizzy herself. Having a man’s life in her hands shouldn’t be so thrilling. It doesn’t arouse her, not compared to his hard cock and his broad chest under her. But it always makes her feel a bit drunk. Cullen is close, the whites of his eyes are bloodshot but not rolling back. She presses a tiny bit harder and his body comes alive under her, thrusting up, arching twice and trembling enough to rattle the dangling stones in her earrings. That’s when she lets go. He sucks air into his chest and somehow pushes up harder off the bed. It’s rare that she feels a man come inside her, but this time there is a distinct tickle as he howls out the breath he took. 

His teeth chatter as she pets his arm and shoulder, waiting for him to open his eyes. He laughs and it twists into a sob, then he slaps one hand over his mouth and throws his other arm over his eyes. Madeleine lets his cock slide out of her as gently as she can, climbing off of him and out of her bed. 

It takes a while for him to gather himself. She cleans up the mess of tea cups and the little bottle of oil. His clothes she shakes out and drapes over a chair. By the time she has thrown her lilac robe over her shoulders and lit the rest of her candles he is sitting on the edge of the bed, throat red, two purple bruises blooming up nicely. 

“Be sure to wear something around your neck for a few days, unless you don’t mind explaining things to your mates.”

He laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck. The motion makes every bit of muscle and sinew stand out from his hip up to his armpit. “I’ll, ah…I’ll remember. I’m not sure what I could say that would explain any of this." 

"Oh, honey.” She ties her robe around her waist and goes to the bed, taking his hand away from his neck. His damp hair is curling up fiercely as the sweat dries. She pats his shoulder with a sigh. “You’ve had a bad time of it, that’s all.”

“No,” he shakes his head then winces, rubbing his throat carefully. “This was, um, nice. Not what I expected but I enjoyed myself.”

“I know, honey,” she pets his cheek with the back of one knuckle. “I meant in general.” He tilts his chin up for the quick peck she gives him. “We’re out of time. Talk to Lily on your way out so she can set you up for next time. If you decide you want something harder, I recommend Lu. She can really make you work for it.”


End file.
